


Follow-up

by somethingnerdythiswaycomes



Series: Knee Injury Boyfriends [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Canon-compliant minor injury, Dom/sub, Facials, Kneeling, M/M, Safe Sane and Consensual, but more than last time, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 00:53:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3876256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingnerdythiswaycomes/pseuds/somethingnerdythiswaycomes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shea opened the door to Steve, end-of-the-season skinny with a rolling suitcase beside him.</p><p>“Planning to stay a while?” Shea asked, because it was the easiest of the questions he had.</p><p>"Until you can take off that brace," Steve replied, nodding down at his knee.  That was it, then.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Follow-up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maidoflight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maidoflight/gifts).



> Takes place a couple weeks after the Preds got eliminated in Round 1 and Shea dislocated his knee.
> 
> I do not represent the people presented as characters in this fic, nor do I try to make any claims about what they do or do not do in their private lives.

“What do you want?” Shea groaned as soon as he answered the phone, not bothering to check the caller ID. It’d probably be his mom again, or maybe Roman, checking up on him while his knee healed.

“I need your address.”

Well, that wasn’t Roman, and it definitely wasn’t his mom.

“Steve?”

He heard a huff over the phone. “Yeah, it’s me. You have caller ID don’t you?”

“Didn’t check it,” Shea replied, leaning his head back on the arm of the couch.

“Well. I need your address.”

“Why? You sending me a care package?”

He could picture the irritated scowl on Steve’s face. “I’m at the airport. I can’t grab a cab until I know where I’m going.”

“What?”

“Do they still have you drugged up or something?” Steve snapped. “What’s your fucking address?”

Shea frowned. “Steve.”

“Sorry,” Steve said shortly. Shea could hear his sigh over the phone. “Flight got delayed out of Philly. I just want to not be in an airport right now.”

Shea sighed, too, and gave Steve the address. He got a quick thank you, and then the line went dead. He dropped his phone onto his chest, reaching out to rub Dug’s ears when he nosed against Shea’s shoulder.

“I don’t know buddy,” Shea told him when Dug gazed at him balefully. “We’ll ask Steve what he wants when he gets here, okay?”

Dug snuffled and settled down next to him.

 

.oOo.

Shea knew exactly how long it takes to get from the airport to his house on any given day, so he spent the next 35 minutes staring up at the ceiling and rubbing Dug’s ears, then Rod’s when he came over for some quality time.

The doorbell rang just about when he expected it to. It took a couple tries to get up off the couch, even now that he’d gotten used to the crutches, and with Dug and Rod keeping out of his way.

He opened the door to Steve, end-of-the-season skinny with a rolling suitcase beside him.

“Planning to stay a while?” Shea asked, because it was the easiest of the questions he had.

Steve shrugged. “If you want me to. I figured I’d be prepared.” He looked down at Shea’s knee, at the brace the doctors had given him to wear. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to hold me down, and restraints take a lot of space.”

So that’s why.

“I’m not Domming you while I’m injured,” Shea said, starting back to the couch. Steve followed him closely, probably in case he tripped or something, rolling the suitcase behind him.

“When’s the last time you Dommed anyone?” Steve asked, holding Shea’s arm and helping him sit on the couch and prop up his leg.

“When’s the last time you subbed?”

Steve frowned. “It’s not about me.”

“That’s not an answer,” Shea said, raising an eyebrow.

Steve crossed his arms. “You didn’t answer me.”

Shea met his eyes, and stared at him, until Steve dropped his arms and looked away.

“End of March,” he muttered, plopping down onto the couch next to Shea.

“April 15th,” Shea replied. “After the game.”

Steve hmphed.

“I’m not going to Dom you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve muttered. “If all I needed was to be put down there are thirty other Doms I could’ve gone to, and I wouldn’t have to get on a plane for most of them.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Knee injuries suck.”

Shea sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Steve—“

“Don’t make it a thing, okay?” Steve said. “I can help you out, and when you want to, I’m here with my restraints.”

“Why?”

Steve scowled and stood up. “Fine, I’m just gonna go—”

“Steve,” Shea growled. Steve dropped immediately to his knees, hands clenched into fists on his lap.

“Dirty fucking pool,” Steve hissed, staring down at the floor. And yeah, Shea knew how weak Steve was for his Dom voice when he hadn’t subbed in a while. And he might have used it against him. But that had made it’s way into their agreement after the first couples years, when Steve was having a rough time with the move, and it was still under the ‘do not need to negotiate first’ section.

Shea dropped a hand onto Steve’s head, pulling it over to rest on his good knee.

“I’m not saying you need to leave. I just want to know what you’re getting out of it. I’m not gonna just have you here taking care of me if it’s out of some weird ass sense of responsibility or something.”

“I want to take care of you,” Steve said quietly, cheek pressed to Shea’s thigh. “Just… let me.”

“Fine,” Shea said. “For now, just…”

“Yeah,” Steve murmured, and slumped against Shea’s leg.

As much as Steve said he wasn’t here for Shea to Dom him, he obviously needed it. It’d been at least a month since he’d gone down, and Shea knew it wasn’t always enough for Steve. It’d happened over and over, Shea would ask after a game, how long it’d been since Steve went down. Two weeks, sometimes, four days, a week and a half… No matter how short a time it had been, Steve always had that tension that only disappeared after Shea put him down and made him come once or twice.

Shea pet Steve’s hair. They could help each other out.

 

.oOo.

Steve had been here for three weeks and Shea was about ready to just ignore his fucking knee and jump on top of him. It wasn’t on purpose, Shea was sure, but that didn’t stop Steve from walking around in just his sweatpants all the time and perching on the couch next to Shea until Shea rolled his eyes and ordered Steve onto his knees. And then he’d just relax, just close his enough and lean against Shea’s leg with this smile on his face…

So Shea had had just about enough of this whole nearly-immobile thing.  
It comes to a head a couple days before Shea’s next doctor’s appointment, to see if he can finally take the brace off. Shea’s sitting on the couch, his bad leg propped up on the ottoman and Steve kneeling next to his good one.

“You ready to get up?” Shea asked, rubbing his fingers against the short hairs at the back of Steve’s neck.

“No, Sir,” Steve mumbled, digging his face into Shea’s thigh and pressing his whole body closer, like he had to hold onto Shea to make him stay.

When Shea felt Steve’s cock, hard in his trousers, brush against his calf, a rush of heat spread through him.

“You’re hard,” Shea said, carefully neutral.

“Yeah,” Steve breathed. Shea peeked at his face and, yeah, eyes closed, mouth barely open, what he always looked like when he was way down in subspace.

“Do you want to touch yourself?”

“Only if you want.”

“Good,” Shea murmured, and pet his head. “You can rub against my leg.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Steve groaned, and wrapped his arms around Shea’s calf. He shuffled forward, pressing in and up until his hips were pressed flush to Shea’s leg. He started to grind against Shea’s leg, hips working slowly. He knew how it worked; most of the time, Shea would tell him to keep going even if he was about to come, and Steve wasn’t going to go fast out of the gate and not be allowed to come for half an hour.

But he always reached that point when it wasn’t enough, and he’d press in harder and try to choke back his moans, and it was always so beautiful. Shea pressed the hand not on Steve’s head to his own cock, grinding the heel of his palm against the bulge in his sweatpants.

“You like that?” Shea asked when Steve let out the first moan.

“Yes,” Steve groaned, hips stuttering before he picked up his pace. “It feels good, Sir.”

“Good.” He slipped his hand into his pants, palming his cock roughly. “You can touch your nipples.”

Immediately, one of Steve’s arms unwound from Shea’s leg so he could pinch at his nipples. He groaned loudly, pushing harder against Shea’s leg.

“Pinch harder.”

Steve did, and his whole body jerked against Shea.

“You can come like this, can’t you?” Shea panted, pushing his sweats down enough that he could get his hand around his cock and stroke it. “Just rubbing against my leg and pinching your nipples and you could come.”

“Yes, Sir,” Steve moaned, dropping his forehead against Shea’s thigh, spreading his own so he could press closer, get more pressure.

Shea groaned, running his fingers through Steve’s hair and down to grip the back of his neck. Steve moaned, loud and high pitched, starting to shake slightly. That slight trembling, when Steve felt good enough his body didn’t know how to react anymore, always pushed Shea close to the edge.

“Sir, can I come?” Steve panted, tilting his head back to look up at Shea. His eyes were glazed over now; Shea grinned.

“Yeah, Steve, come.” Shea held him tighter, and tightened his hand around his cock.

Immediately, Steve bucked against Shea’s leg, his mouth dropping open on a loud moan as he came. He was flushed and shaking, still rocking against Shea’s leg, chin propped on Shea’s knee. He was still staring up at Shea. Shea started stroking himself again, to his view of Steve’s half-lidded eyes and bitten red lips.

“You want me to come on your face, Steve?” Shea grunted, fisting his cock roughly. “All over your pretty face?”

Steve licked his lips. “Yes, Sir, please.”

Shea grit his teeth and pulled Steve’s face closer, pressing the head to Steve’s cheek just as he started to come. His come spurted over Steve’s face and dripped down his chin, Shea continuing to stroke himself slowly. Steve pulled against his hand, tongue out to lick over his slit and the last drop of come pearled there.

“Yeah, clean up my cock, babe,” Shea panted, sliding his hand back into Steve’s hair and coaxing him forward. He settled back into the couch, absentmindedly petting Steve’s head as he licked over Steve’s cock, keeping his lips pressed close even after Shea was all clean.

“You came on my face last time, too,” Steve muttered.

“Yeah,” Shea replied. “Guess I did.”

Steve smiled softly.

“You have a minute to rest, and then I’m gonna move you so I can feed you.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Shea pet his hair and tried to look away from the smile on Steve’s face. He wasn’t successful.

 

.oOo.

“You’ve come on my face twice, now,” Steve said again, as Shea cleaned off his face with a washcloth.

“Yeah,” Shea said slowly, not sure why Steve was mentioning it again.

“Claiming your property?”

Shea blinked. “What?”

Steve huffed. “You’re marking your property by coming all over me. Multiple times.”

“I…” Shea stopped, and sighed. “I’ll stop doing that.”

“I didn’t say you needed to stop.”

Shea frowned, and put the washcloth under the faucet to buy himself some time. They both knew the terms of this “relationship.” When they were in the same city, they’d meet up, Shea would put Steve down, and they’d have a late snack before the visitor went back to their hotel. Sometimes they’d hook up over the summer, or if one of them really needed it they’d do something over skype, but they weren’t in a relationship. Shea didn’t have any sort of claim over him, and Steve shouldn’t encourage him. Even if their skype sessions were becoming more frequent, and they saw each other almost once a month over the summer, more frequently than Shea saw anyone but his training partners. Even if Steve would send him ridiculous morning pictures, with his hair sticking up and pillow creases on his cheeks, with just a simple morning.

“But I mean…” He turned back to Steve, and faltered at the look of sheer determination Steve was leveling at him. He’d seen that look sent down the ice at him, from behind Steve’s mask. It was no less terrifying now.

“You could mark me more, if you want,” Steve said.

“I’m not… I’m not your Dom, Steve.”

Steve scoffed. “I know that. I’m a sub, not fucking stupid.”

“Okay,” Shea said. He wrung out the washcloth and laid it on the edge of the sink. “I’ve got my appointment tomorrow, to see if I can take off the brace.”

Steve didn’t respond, just stood up and went up the stairs to a guest room. One of the rooms neither of them had been using, because Shea was sleeping on the first floor and Steve was sleeping with him.

 

.oOo.

The next day, when Shea got back from his doctor’s appointment, Steve and his suitcase were gone. Shea wasn’t upset about it. Or, at least, he was trying not to be.

**Author's Note:**

> My partner didn't even need to ask for this one. Once Shea injured his knee I was like, okay. Now it's Steve's turn to take care of him. So here.
> 
> There's gonna be a third part, when they're both actually healthy (god willing)


End file.
